Truth
by Rheys
Summary: Alastair feeds on the fear of a young girl. But does he wish her harm? What importance is she to him, and the Winchesters?
1. Chapter 1

_The angels are dying. Squabbling over simple and petty things turn to murder in latter days, while carnal sins of the flesh no longer seem relevant. The faithful and devout, they attend mass, speak their lessons unto the world and pray for forgiveness. To what ends? Let them repent, it does no good. There are no answers anymore, none that are clear enough read anyway, and the faithful turn to greed, jealousy, anger. They feel abandoned and rightly so, what is it they have done to warrant nothing but deadly silence? And a war that has waged for countless millenia continues as this world greens and frosts and passes by, ignorance they say is bliss. The media covers what they can not explain, claiming it is an act of nature, angry, devastatingly deadly but nothing more then that. _

_Frauste Nighthaven._

"That should just about do it. Keep the romanticism alive I suppose." she whispered quietly to herself, signing off on her internet blog and cutting the power to her machine. She was a soft featured girl, velvet skin pale as ivory yet something of water when she moved, as if watching the careful balance of dancers on ice. Every step she took was graceful, every movement immaculate, there was no wide sweeping motion as she turned, and even off balance she was nimble, perfect. Chestnut and burgundy strands drifted softly about her physique as she gently closed her eyes to reflect, skimming her slender fingers through dark hair that shone in every light. It was shoulder length, the way she had always liked it, it curled at just the right moments lapping at her neck in just the right way, the tickle sent chills down her spine. Paling crimson graced her features as she allowed a small smile to crease her lips, mind concentrated deep in thought as she breathed heavily, slowly, deeply, almost as if being alseep she would wander. Slowly, eyes of blue, deep as sapphire opened, bringing her back to the reality she so longed to forget, the cruelty, and the malevolence of life. She sighed.

"Very poetic. You're not wrong." The voice was a hiss, a whisper in her ear. She felt breath on her skin, burning, familiar, could smell the scent. Focusing quickly she turned to her left, nothing. To her right stood only a painted wall decorated with small stickers and decals, creatures like unicorns and leprecauns danced merrily around a fountain while around them lay scattered gold coins and black cauldrons. She turned from her desk, the ever graceful movement fluid like in structure faltering in panic, and she stumbled from her chair to her knees on a carpeted floor. Shag, just the way she liked it. "Not tonight sweetie I have a headache." The voice rasped again, sarcastic overtones heavily lidded the conversation as she fumbled, an empty bedroom surrounded her from every direction. Then, as if she had known from the beginning, the window. Slowly regaining her composure she forced herself to her feet once more, the fluid movements returning swiftly as the voice stopped whispering. She had counted silently, 'one, two,...five' steps that seemed a mile to the window sill, pulse pounding desperately in her mind, drowning the sound of silence that followed. Five steps, and she was peering down through laced curtains into a garden now in full bloom. Petunias, daisies, peonies, roses, multitudes of flowering plant sprang to life in the summer breezes, moon bright as it had been for near on a month since the summer had begun. And there in the midst of it all, stood a man. He was tall, lanky, pale with lighter hair from what she could tell at this distance. He was intriguing, and as she stare down at him, she swore she saw him smile. "Tsk. Tsk. Its not polite to keep people waiting at the door. You should invite them in." She turned from the window in surprise, he stood before her, a light blue dress shirt, black slacks covered him. "Alastair. You would be...?"

"People know me as Frauste. My real name is April." she replied nervously. It was taking everything in her not to scream as loud and long as she could. "I prefer Frauste. Its annonymous, keeps people guessing."she closed her eyes again, tightly and constricted to relaxed as she fought the fear now threatening to overtake her being, trying to slow her breathing as she responded to the question. He watched for a long moment, quietly contemplating her, actions, grace, beauty. She opened her eyes once more, taking every inch of him in as she possibly could. She had been correct in assuming his hair was light, he was a red head. His frame was large, he stood far taller then she had hoped, but there was always a way of turning things around on others in case of emergency. He was simply staring at her. After a long silence, he moved toward her, simple strides, no malicious intent. It didn't take much time, not before he was circling slowly studying her, studying from every angle he possibly could, until he stopped. From behind she felt the breath on her naked skin once more.

"Once again. You're not wrong. It certainly does keep people guessing." he snickered and licked at his chapped lips, his breath a hiss as he spoke. He was taunting, frightening, dominating and she was the mouse caught between a rock and his trap. In his sing song voice he leaned in close to her and spoke, "_Guess..what..I'm..going..to do_."


	2. Chapter 2

_"Wake up..come on now, don't disappoint us hm?"_. The voice was tender, soft, frail. Feminine, with an air of authority that could not be denied, and a distance as if on the edge of breaking. _"You know, I don't blame you. The longer you stay like that though, the worse you are going to feel. And then there won't be anything I can do to help ease the pain a little." _It spoke again, concern lingering in its words. Still, the brunette did not stir, made no attempt to move beyond her positioning, perhaps out of fear, perhaps the pain had already begun to set, whatever the reason it seemed to irritate the soft spoken creature. _"Fine. Have it your way. When the boss comes back, I will be sure to let him know you haven't yet regained conciousness, completely vulnerable. Defenseless. He, he will be free to do all that he pleases. He has more patience then I do, and a sense of humor that can be clearly defined as 'over the top', I mean, not many find the humor in skinning others or breaking bones one by one until finally you are ready to tell him anything."_ The voice paused a brief moment as if studying the lifeless body. A great silence fell between the two still breathing objects that seemed to devour all existence, swallowing all in a deepening cloud of despair. _"He laughs at pain, gets some sort of perverse pleasure from it. He delights in torture, its almost like a sin of the flesh without the hassle, but not quite as fun. And as for myself, well I..I like to watch."_ She could almost hear the voice trying to conceal the tail of laughter threatening to reveal itself, twisting, cutting, a dread she could not bear to stand. Hopeless. She was dead, from the beginning she had known, yet dared to believe that perhaps she could be saved. Quietly she began to move, turning tear stained velvet towards her word wise watcher. The girl was petite, a fragile creature with a strong dominance over fear, doubt, she seemed a fighter at first glance, this attitude she displayed a defense mechanism she had built to protect herself from the cruelties of reality. A strange thought occured to her as she studied the woman with her own blurred vision, and Frauste began to wander how long he had taken to break her, and what it was he had done, how exactly he had gone about it. She was small, a few inches shorter then the avergae woman at best guess, blue jeans tight around her thighs as she sat straddling a backwards facing chair, black heeled boots that buckled beyond the hem of her pant, black leather belt pulled tight as if in punishment. She wore a black shirt, trimmed in gold, some cursive writing scribbled across the chest in promotion of some band that had long since disappeared, and a faux leather jacket that sat happily upon her hips, cracked and worn in places. Her skin was pale, very pale, almost as if had death had only recently touched her and would not decay her for her beauty. Her skin, soft and cold, was accented by the fire red ringlets of her hair that hung loose to her shoulders. Emerald eyes sparkled with life, and a cold malice that shook the very foundation of her, there was a madness in those eyes, a confusion that could not be mistaken for anything else.

"You're beautiful." Frauste whispered desperately through onslaught of emotion.

"And you, you are just one more plaything to add to the collection. All those broken dolls, none seem to last long enough anymore." was the response, calculating and callous. It frightened her beyond all knowledge those words given as an answer, and though she could clearly feel herself mouthing something back to her captor, there were no sounds to solidify her thoughts. "Aww. How sweet, you're frightened." she spoke looking down upon the brunette from where she sat, a crease upon her lips as the smile drifted across her gentle yet toughened features. Slowly she rose, pushing the wooden chair from beneath her silently crossing the room to sit at the base of the cot where the frightened girl now lay awake and speechless. "You have reason to be, but not of me. I'm harmless, and thereby being the least of your worries, I shall impart unto you this knowledge. They call me Mara. Marasheid." she said with a lingering accusaion in her voice, an air of intelligence and mockery floated on her words as she spoke them and let them settle to the dust below.

"You..are going to kill me." Frauste sobbed painfully as she spoke. The realization took Mara by surprise, but she quickly passed it off as a delirious reaction to the ordeal the girl was now facing. "You're gonna kill me and no one is going to know what happened," she continued through tears and sobs of torment as Mara watched in silence, "Why? Why are you doing this? If its money you want, my family has it. Just let me go please! I promise I won't tell anyone who you are..."

"I really wish it were that simple, I really do. For your sake. But its not. Its about something so much more unique, something special, something only you have. Come on, lets get you cleaned up, and those scratches you call wounds looked after shall we? Can't have you dying on us, yet anyway..." Mara replied softly as she stood to help the girl sit on the edge of the cot. Wrapping one hand around her waist to hold her up and the other on her hand slung loosely over her shoulder, Mara and Frauste used each other for support as they slowly made their way to a dark room decorated with a simple mirror and small tub of hot soapy water.

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"I don't get it Dean. I just don't. Who's been missing for two days, following an argument with her parents no less." the young man spoke sternly, confused and beligerent. He was tall, frame was slender, shoulders broad as if made to carry such heavy weight upon them. He was compassionate and usually soft spoken, but four months with his brother dead and buried had conformed him, had taught him to be the best of his sibling and worst of his father, hunting and killing everything to stand between him and his ultimate goal. Lilith. She was the one who had done this to him, seemed fitting that she should be the end of such things as this pain he coveted as strength, he was the wounded animal seeking vengeance, determined to destroy the very thing he was to become. He turned his cautious eyes away from the smaller blonde in the room as he shifted placing several items in a neat pile upon the desk, dark hair swaying against pale skin as he moved gracefully throughout his cage.

"Yeah, a girl who rarely ever takes off. A girl who has been missing without a trace. I'm just saying, I got a feeling about this ok?" the blonde retorted with an edge hardly distinguishable from anger. Careful with his words he continued to sift through books and texts written in languages he had never begun to understand, confusion and perserverance etched upon the strong features of his elder face. His light eyes had been filled with a new hope, shone with an indifference that could not be clearly defined by the passing hours in darkness or daylight, his skin taking on a new hue in dawns light. He too was broad of shoulder, slender of frame and semmed a man on a very urgent mission, something had gripped his soul and twisted, contorted him until he resembled the fierce animal he had begun to show he truly was. A warrior for a righteous cause set out by higher powers once thought non-existant, an older brother with the determination to protect his family, and the will to continue despite himself. "Where the hell is Cas...?"

"Dean,.." the dark haired one responded with a slight chuckle gracing the curves of his lips, "I'm not saying you're wrong. But we can't rely on Cas to hold our hands now, I mean he's an angel right? He's probably got more important things to be worried about then just what two people arre getting themselves into, especially when none of it concerns any of the remaining seals, or Lilith for that matter."

"Sammy, you're really starting to sound like dad in your old age." was the elicited response, not quite what the younger of the two expected. A deep silence fell bewteen the two which seemed to last for an eternity in that moment, until it was interrupted by an elder man. He was gruff, red headed, average height for a man with eyes that appeared weary yet alert. His face was drawn with worry and exhaustion, skin pale as the others had been shone in the dawns light as if simply renewed from the night before. He wore a baseball cap and vest which seemed to suit his junkyard habits. "Bobby?"

"Well boys, the place is clean. Not even a hint of sulfur, meaning no demon did this. Sorry kids, looks like the girl just up and left of her own will." he spoke in a gruff manner about the subject at hand. The young blonde simply stared at him in silence while the brunette smirked at his words, almost like a taunt he stared at his older brother for a moment and let the smile drop. "I'm tell ya we can go back and look it over time and time again, but this girl..this April just simply in't there. Don't be a fool son, just let it go, its a common occurence and you should know it better then anyone."


	3. Chapter 3

She sat quietly examining the body of the young brunette cautiously stepping into the warm basin. She was white from stem to sternum, pure, innocent, hardly a threat and yet she remained remarkably different. Red swelling turned to darkness as darkened blemishes turned to yellow healing upon her broken skin in the dim light of the silent room. She whimpered gently to herself as she moved every subtle movement, the basin filled with a liquid smelling of lavender and eucalyptus stung desperately as it devoured open wounds beneath its surface. Startled she turned to the red head for assurance. "Its only water sweetheart, I saturated it with salt to prevent any further infection, sweetened it with eucalyptus and lavender oils to help with relaxation. Temperature should be suitable no?" Mara spoke softly as she watched the brunette continue to settle slowly into the water. With a simple nod Frasute was quickly subdued by the waters kiss and let herself drift there for a moment before she remembered Mara remained in the room, it was only the cooling touch of a soft cloth on her naked skin that drew her back to reality. "You certainly are different from all the other toys he brings here, I have to give you that. There is a strength about you that just refuses to break." she whispered continuing to study the minor irritations and wounds Alastair had left his guest of honor with during their first encounter. The lacerations and abraisions would heal with time, this was true of any creature, but the psychological trauma to the girls mental state is what bothered Mara, she had concentrated on that from the moment he had brought the girl to this place.

"And what of you? How did you become involved in all of this?" she spoke calmly, in control of herself. She was young, alone, surviving in a cruel reality a nameless god had set aside for her. It was saddening, a little disheartening to watch this child familiarize herself with world of shadows and monsters now surrounding her, there were no answers that could be given to ease her strain.

"I..I fell a long way. Through shadows, and darkness, to a place I could no longer recognize, even through my eyes. Familiar faces became memories of a life I owned countless centuries ago, streets I had walked in twilight hours grew confusing, and hedgerows grewto become nothing more to me then mazes and puzzles I had yet to unravel. You see, I was dying...in my own right perhaps it was I was dead, I had time if nothing else. I spent unnumbered, numerous nights awake visiting covenants and churches of various religions and practices, prayed at convents in silence seeking an answer from an omnipotent being I was unsure of. I prayed for a God, and instead I was sent a monster disguised behind a mans face. Much like yourself, I was frightened, and he hurt me beyond all comprehension, but I found that as time passed, that creature became anther aspect of existence I could not live without. The face is different, changed..." trailing off into concentrated thought, Mara gently washed away blood stains and dirt from the nape of the girl's neck. Words and emotions did not betray her here, every movement she made, each tender breath she expelled spoke of truth, and through truth she knew she would earn the much desired trust of this poor creature, so weak and fragile beneath the strength of her hands. "How does it feel? Does it hurt much?"

"No," Frauste responded weakly, not really paying attention to the woman situated behind her, in control of her life, "I am just very tired. Do you think it would be all right if I rest for a while?" she queried softly.

"Of course sweetheart." was all she could manage. Helping the young brunette from the basin, water dripping about the floor where her feet firmly planted themselves, Mara wrapped a linen cloth about her ward to keep the cold from her skin. Cotton was a luxury this out of the way building lacked, linen was abundant, tattered shreds of wool clothing lay about in unkempt piles where very few passers tread, and so linen being all she could manage had to be the material of choice. Slowly she began to pat the younger woman down, starting at her feet, gently creeping her way ascendingly past the girls hips, smoothing he droplets on her taught stomach and drying them from her shoulders. She was perfect, a seamless body, broken and discolored in areas, yet perfect none the less. After she had been dried with the exception of her long dark hair, highlights of auburn shimmering with movement in paling light, they moved together as one unit, further from the dingy apartment she had started, toward the east of the building, a quiet place held in darkness. Laying her down in what seemed a considerably cleaner cot, Mara removed the linen cloth and covered the frail child in woolen blankets to allow her rest to be peaceful. No sooner had she done this then the girl had lost conciousness once more.

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"She's asleep. It may be some time before she awakens again, you wouldn't want to push her unless you are aiming to kill her now. Look, you may not need to eat, but I do. I'm leaving for a while, just need to get some food." she stated quietly to the figure in front of her, sitting rigidly in his wooden high backed chair. He made no effort to communicate, not even a gesture to prove he had heard the words she had spoken. He seemed distant, as though lost in deep though or heavy concentration, pale skin alight by tense flame of candle, red hair set ablaze by the very same. This room was his favorite, he would always be found here, the only furniture that simple chair, his quiet meditation equally disturbing as the lack of interior decoration. Feeling as though she had said enough to alert him to the situation she turned back towards the heavy wooden door she had entered through, only to be temporarily restrained, an uneasy feeling gripping her desperately, tightly, choking.

"Do you hate me?.." his voice a whisper as he spoke, his back to her as hers was to him. She paused for a moment to reflect upon his question before she ventured a swift reply.

"No. Because it would stand to reason, that if I did hate you infact, I would have to do the very same for myself and all I have become, every choice I have made through out this existence, albeit this pitiful existence, but it is an existence. I would hate myself beyond all comparison to others if that were the case." Her words were gentle, something tender as if promises to a lover escaped her thoughts. He was a teacher to a student, father to a child, and master to a slave, but it was more then such things that broke upon her, more that brought such heavy tidings and ill fated omens to her restless sleep. Relentless night terrors and vivid dreams starved her for satisfaction of peace during long empty nights, nights she yearned for him.

"I see. Then come sit with me for a moment won't you?" he spoke softly again, his voice hardly audible even in the silence of his prison. Still, ever the obedient child she was, eagerly did she obey the suggestion. Her leather boots creaked with movement, the heels hitting hard against the wooden floor as she took each stride from the wooden frame of the entrance, a loud click echoed through the atmosphere with each step. Small buckles jingled gently against her curves as the short leather jacket swayed mildly with her body, stiff and solid it remained yet somehow fitting and easy. Standing before him she realized his eyes were closed as if out of fatigue, he had not begun to acknowledge her obedience before she placed her hands on opposing sides of his long neck, the contour smooth and familiar, like marble stone. She studied his silent face, lingering upon his features, breathing him in as though a drug, and softly, quietly, moved in closer until she could taste his breath. His eyes opened, blue searching eyes she found herself lost in every time he looked upon her. "Still the red head..." he sighed gingerly, as if bemused and somewhat disappointed, "I liked you better when you were blonde."

"Is that so?", she retorted jsut as softly, tasting him slightly as she spoke, "Well then, I suppose I will just have to change it then." Moving closer with her body she sat straddling his lap as he placed his hands on her hips to steady her, the warmth made her flush slightly yet she regained herself enough to concentrate. Swiftly and easily she passed her fingers through her hair, color changing from firey red to beautiful blonde. "Better?" she whispered as she watched his expression change, a graceful smile creasing his features.

"Mh hmm." The response nothing more then a gutteral purr, brought a fleeting joy to her mind as she examined his face, studied every feature and lingered, tasting every subtle aroma he procured. "And as for you,.." he began after a moment of hunger and lust had subsided, "..What can I do do to make your life a little more enjoyable?" he quivered with anticipation as his tongue gently traced the curve of her tender neck, fragrant, velvet. Irresistable. She sighed heavily allowing herself to be carried away in the moment, all thought released from their captor as she felt him tasting her, it had been so long since he had shown interest in her dealings, in her, she craved every inch of him, yet contained her desires quietly. "Ah. Someone's got... a s-e-cre-t." he teased gently at her neck, a atunt she couldn't refuse as she pushed away from him to stare him in the the eye.

"Nothing. This body you now inhabit, certainly more liveable then that old man you were possessing, whatever cause you to think that would have any command over the opposite, well you were sorely mistaken. Its true I do have a secret, one you will never have the pleasure of understanding." she returned arrogantly. Quickly, gently, momentarily she pressed her mouth to his in passion and anger, something of remorse lingered there as she defeated him so. Taken by surprise even by her own actions, her face flushed, salt stung her emerald eyes and warm water bore itself into a new land. She pushed herself from his grasp, standing gracefully and quietly while he sat in contemplation and deeper amusements, she strode toward the door she had entered through before this happening had taken place and as she reached the exit she stopped. "Try, to be good while I am gone. I do not plan on taking longer then is necessary." And she wandered aimlessly out of sight, thorugh the silent corridors of the building.

"And don't think I don't know..my-little-pet." he whispered half to himself as half to the empty atmosphere around him when he was certain she had gone. "They sold you-out. You became-a-new-toy, dont' think your insolence won't go unpunished." he sang softly to himself, mouth all a lather, temperature risen into a fever.

((Are you guys enjoying this? Or shall I stop? Just a warning, I get mildly suggestive but I will try to be careful. Anyway, reviews are always welcome.))


	4. Chapter 4

_"...The search continues today for the young girl who went missing less then 48 hours ago. Police have not released any details pertaining to possible motives, or witnesses involved in the incident however but are asking that any person or persons who could provide information regarding the circumstances of her mysterious disappearance to please contact them at.."_

The newscaster continued hurriedly through the report as though it was just another inconvenience, a burden he had to get through. Emerald eyes lingered transfixedly upon the sallow cheek bones of the digital man, the sunken features of a weathered face weary with exhaustion. Still, despite the skeletal visage and receding hairline of an elderly man with a terrible comb-over, a graceful smile kissed her velveteen features as she peered deeply into those deep set eyes dark as the ocean. A flame was still burning, firey and unyeilding, it was life to the greatest extent, excitement. Something practical to awake from the monotonous, boring dregs of reality. Softly the emerald lights failed, darkness surrounded the gentle features as deep currents of thought found themselves awash in the chaos of silence, and an exasperated drawn breath was released in hushed tones as a cold breeze trailed the depths of her spine. As if someone had run their fingers down the small of her pale skin. Opening those windows alight with understanding and compassion she turned her focus to the wooden table before her, oak, quaint with its simple trim of forest green and metal foot bolted to the tiled floor for balance, the leather couch situated purposely by the large bay windows strangely glowing with the dimming evening, back to the tea cup, half empty and cooling merrily as she stared into its depths contemplating what seemed its molecular composition. Faces, angry, morose, laughing faces became nothing more then a mix of color and sound, she was the painter and this was her canvas. It was enjoyable, something forgotten, the facade had taken her identity and rebuilt it, vanished memory but a whisper upon a lingering dream.

"Its raining." a deeper voice spoke. Taken aback by the sudden interruption of sanity, she allowed her eyes to linger upon the figure now before her, across from the tea cup, now cold between her fingers. He was gentle, soft, irresistible in his loose threaded beige trench coat and a black suit beneath that comparable to something a regular man would have been found in if he had attended church that very evening. He was beautiful, from the tone of his skin to the sapphire of his gaze, the windswept state of his hair right down to the depths of his soul he was beautiful. A continued silent glare was all she allowed him in response to his imposing presence. "I hope, for your sake, you've brought something to.."

"You're not a demon. You've got..stories its true. Stories I am willing to bet damnation on, you haven't even told your new found pets. Do you not think its about time you started to trust someone? If not them, then who? You see, I on the other hand, I'm no angel. I come to this little diner with the beige coffee mugs, and the oak tables, and the annoying voice of the digital newscaster trying to sound important as he recounts how the stock markets dipped 14 points today in areas I could care less about. Theres an insurmountable number of voices, faces and colors that pass through here each hour that become such an amalgamation of life. All of them, every single one, has stories they refuse to speak of. Then there is me and the rain. I'm not made of shit, or sugar. And I won't melt under water. Hold nothing back, I find the answers, but the real question is why are you here..now. Things would be so simple if you would just tell me because surely you didn't come to talk about the weather."

"..How can you side with him, become an accessory in his cruelty. There is redemption even for you. You say there is an answer to be found then it is you've already found it. I am just unable to comprehend your reason." he retorted quietly, remorsefully. A long pause created an uneasy atmosphere, both searching for the words to break the silence.

"I don't. But its the same as why people side with a God they are unwholly sure of. They place what they call their faith in an omnipotent being they have no proof of, but cannot deny exists, and believe his warriors will do his bidding. If you pray, with all your conviction, you will be taken care of. I do know that..this is something that must happen, I can't say I'm surprised that you're the first one who'd jump into that sack, and he prayed for it. Thats how God repays his loyal, the devout people who follow his will? Castiel...tell the truth. You're not the least bit interested as to why I'm here with Alastair. You want the girl. Right?"

"Yes. Willingly giving her to us would be better then what you're doing. Doing nothing would be better."

"Shame. I'll kill her myself if you even think about trying to take her. That is if Alastair hasn't done so already. I'm no angel, I've told you that, but I am no demon either. Make no mistake I have no qualms about doing all that I have to. You talk about redemption, you throw words around like they mean something to the damned, like they have some bearing. You ask me to tell you how I side with the man who destroyed me? Maybe I'm just a little sadistic, masochistic, but I can't side with you and don't side with them and I'm caught in between in a war that can't be fought on this plane. And I won't survive this. But I need him. You can take that back, now you know your enemy." And with that she rose from the table, attention directed at the cashier with her back to the blonde. Turning to look once more at the man with whom she had previously been speaking found only an empty bench and the lingering sadness of hopelessness.

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"Its been nearly 48 hours. Don't you think its time you got some rest? Look, I'll continue searching the records, I'd look through old newspapers from a hundred years ago if I thought that it would help. But you've gotta trust me, you're exhausted. You haven't slept in almost two days and the last time I saw you this worried about something other then yourself was when you were sixteen and were determined to stay awake until dad came back. It was almost a week, you were starting to hallucinate. Why is this bothering you so much?" Fervent words of compassion followed the young blonde through the dark corners of the old room. The floor carpeted and stained, most likely from beer and vomit, swelled and contracted beneath his step. It was a dive if you could call it that, more a dive of a dive. There was water damage in the ceiling, rust around the pipes and the walls were paper thin, every noise, every moan, every grunt, every foot step was audible from where he stood, disgusting. This was his life, being on the road wasn't so bad, having his brother at his side even better. It was a freedom he was unwilling to lose, something he had lost. All he was doing now, was collecting the pieces of a broken life, a distant memory. Swiftly making his way to the furthest bed at the end of the room he sighed heavily as he planted himself upon the firm and yet still very visibly lumpy matress, the words still ringing in his ears as fresh as the rush of cold water. With a sideways glance and a half cocked smile he raised his gaze to the broad shouldered brunette, a silhoutte in the desperate gloom of his hell.

"Sam...what if we can't find her? What if she dies, while I'm lying in some swanky, cheap motel room dreaming of pretty butterflies and fluffy kittens? We can't let it come down to that. I'm just...I just.." he trailed off as his gaze shifted to the right side of the room, his thoughts birthing new theories and unwanted consequences faster then he could put them together. A deep grief began to over take him in that moment, a sadness he could not place as his own, yet not dismiss as a fallacy to the world.

"Nothing is hopeless Dean." the voice was soft, tender, comforting. Something warm upon his back, a hand, firm, filled with strength and wavering with doubt, gentle, reassuring.

"Bout time." he responded with sarcasm to the offered gesture. Easing himself onto the bed before him he turned to find himself faced with a man in a loose threaded beige trench coat, beneath he wore a black suit with a dress shirt neatly buttoned the clavicle. The tie, a noose, a collar but the man's neck, a sign of imprisonment. An irony he couldn't deny. "Where the hell have you been?"

"Cas..we need your help." Sam told the mysterious man softly as he approached slowly, an air of caution about him, curiosity piquing in the filtering sadness of the darkened room. For a long moment there were no words to express thoguht, just the solemn stares of anxiety and the gentle click click of closing doors and settling locks which seemed to echo in the silence. Settling uneasily down beside his elder brother he continued to watch the movements in the mans body, attempting to read his behaviour to understand without words. "...Theres, theres a girl. She's missing..." he began, quickly hushed by the remorseful glance he was thrown by the angel.

"Theres something...I need...hmmm. How shall I put this? That girl, she's bait. There is more to the story, then either of you are aware, the likelihood of finding her alive, its not...Dean, Sam. I have a story, but in order to fully comprehend it, I must start at the beginning."

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The sweet copper taste of blood filled her mouth, pain rose through her body, an agony she could no longer dismiss. He had torn from her the beautiful leather jacket she loved so dearly in his vicious onslaught. A punishment he called it, equal to no more then a gentle slap on the wrist for her disobedience. The room was empty, save for a small wooden chair, the multiple lit candles that threw powerful shadows about the walls in the quietest of moments appeared ennervated with every suffering he had inflicted upon her, calm now his rage had subsided. She lay lifeless, gathering her bearings about her, allowing her emerald eyes to slip out of focus as she concentrated on the taste of metal, the only peace she had, all that reminded her she still clung to life. It had happened before, mostly when he found himself bored or aggitated for one reason or another, she had been his primary focus on more then one occassion, subject to all kinds of uniques and invented tortures derived solely for his pleasure. Burns, cuts, skinning, breaks, all these were no stranger, in fact she quite delighted in them herself, the beatings she recieved were merciless but exhilarating. She had called him on them more then once, saying he was a twisted monster who derived his only satisfaction from the viewing of the agony he placed upon others, instead of the bed of a woman. Needless to say, he was less then unnerved by such statements, he became playful and cut deeper. She lay there breathing deeply, concious and aware, unfocused and despondant. It wasn't until she felt powerful hands around her waist she began to calm herself and focus on the state of the world about her. Blood had pooled in several different areas of the room where he had taken his time with her, in others it was very light and untouched, unbroken by her defeat. She rolled into him as he pulled her from the floor, grimacing with every movement as she glimpsed the akward positioning of fingers and toes, the discoloration of her tender skin now torn in areas never before torn. She placed her arms about his shoulders as she buried her face in his shirt so that he would be unawares of her true pain not wanting to show him her weakness.

"You see what happens. A fragile puppet, who angers the hand tends to have its wires cut. Water under the bridge, hmm?"

((My disclaimer: I don't own anything but Mara and Frauste thus far. All rights go to the men and women who make the series possible, and the amazing talent they have working with them.))

_((Also, this was done really fast, just because. I am going to try and keep up on it, please keep reading. Again, a little viloent, a little vulgar, but c'mon, this is fun right? So...Thanks!!))_


	5. Chapter 5

_The paint is peeling, from the walls of this place. Cold here but all I feel is burning. I'm bait, nothing more then meat in water, waiting for the shark. I'm going to die here, with or without their shark. But the paint is peeling. The paint is peeling and the walls are full of rust. Silence. Threatens my mind, I can't hear anything but for the sound of my own heart pounding in my ear. I want to go home...._

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From the corner, he was nothing more then a shadow, a wisp of movement among the dark walls and empty corridors. Soundless, silent, stealth was impeccable, the grace of a feline, the fluidity of water, it was unerring movement, perfect, solemn. It was death. His voice burned like a thousand small fires set to skin as he spoke, the gentle silk of his words released flowed confident, skillful, and found their mark deeper then razors, precise. Pale skin shone radiantly in the devouring darkness, his words all of thought, no foundation dancing by an eerie silver moonlight that then befell the visage, deep set features wisened, aching, skeletal. Pacing soundlessly between peeling walls, decaying linens and cracked glass, he whispered gently to the stagnant pooling airs, desperate, calculating, contemplating. "Rabid dogs ought be muzzled lest they bite the hand that feeds, and still there you weep, weakened and alone. Do you know what draws forth from the darkness? I do. Ohh.."he began as gnarled fingers, slender, rough to the touch, gentle as they worked drifted from the shadows towards the acquiescent figure wrapped into itself, "tsk..tsk. You recoil as if its poison. I know your secret." It was a purr, affectionate and bemused. Liked the sound of his voice he did, loved to hear himself talking, taunting in some cases. "You lied to that poor boy, the one in the diner. The angel was it? I should have taken my time, pulled the skin from your pretty, pretty face layer by layer just to see how loud you would scream. Ohhh...the things I would do to you.." he sang softly as if to himself. There was no threat here in those words, just promise. "But..."he began again, "you learn. Too quickly do you learn."

"…The paint is peeling. Do something."

"The cur, the whelp,…the bitch clad in earthly armor. Found your tongue at last did you? Words are meaningless without substance, substance is meaningless without foundation, but you…you taste like..mangoes. Strawberries. You smell like open fields, pressed linen…fond memories. Do something you say? What is it I should?"

Continuously he paced, a methodical dance, a waltz beneath the pale moonlight. Deep eyes, torn and desperate, lingered steadily upon his motions, mannerisms and nervous habits. "You mean to kill me now, if you had never meant it beforehand. It's an analogy, 'the paint is peeling'. My own. It's peeling like you have it your mind to peel the flesh from these bones. You won't stop there, not until the inside is on the out, …where is god? Why would he let this happen, right? I'm tired of this game. I'm tired. Do something." Her words spoken in hushed, silken tones drifted lazily through the darkness, shadows playing upon rotted fixtures seemingly laughed about secrets kept amongst themselves. And then, in an instant the world became still, time had ceased, all movement frozen, those lazily drifting words fell as though shards of splintered glass to the depths. Loose ringlets of auburn hair swayed softly grazing the pale skin dressed impressively in simple discolorations as the recoiled figure swiftly, gracefully willed itself to stand from its defeated position. "You smell of death, and blood, and sweat. So give me, what's rightfully mine."

"You…" he began as if woken from some deep slumber, his breath deep as he inhaled, eyes focused as the wolf in the forest stalking the wounded, back straight, shoulders squared and piercing gaze set upon his target. With a quick sufficient and somehow elegant swivel of this lanky body blanketed by filth and blood he stepped to her, gently placing his hands upon her hips as he leaned in, parted his lips as he studied her in her beauty, his tongue tracing the gentle curve of her slender neck, his warm breath calming and somehow disturbingly erotic. As he reached the base of her jaw he felt her tremble ever so slightly, perhaps in frustration, perhaps in anxiety or excitement. In either case, he was aroused. "All our times have come, here but now they're gone..Seasons don't fear.." he began in a tired song filled voice.

"..The Reaper." A third voice spoke softly from the darkness, her figure outlined against dimming silver light.

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"_This station will be repeating the broadcast shortly with an update as soon as it is available…"_

The diner was quiet that morning as the two young men entered. They seemed no more then the common odd couple, simply passing through this little hell in the way out distance, the middle of nowhere. One blonde with hazel eyes, smaller then the other, shorter, worn lines set deep across his face in places, a look of fondness and anger aging him, yet he wore it well. He was mature, a quick glance from a safe was all any passerby needed of him to know this simple fact, reasonably intelligent, clean shaven, well dressed. His flaw was that he was quick to temper, countered by a quick witted sense of humor, he was the perfect weapon. His partner in crime, a taller broad shouldered youth, no older then mid to late twenties, brunette with a deep stride seemed the highly educated type, reserved with an air of secrecy. Deep eyes, compassionate, inquisitive in nature spoke with every gesture, their ocean color revealed in the rarest of correct lightings, velvet skin, something of a legal advisor in his look gave him away to be the shy, friendly geek. They were the perfect odd couple, nothing new to the unspeaking residents of this quaint little hole, most were far too intrigued with a news station that seemed to be repeating its most recent reports to notice at all. A change from the usual, it felt out of place somehow, as if only something unusually uncommon, the pair quickly and quietly swaggered over to a small booth and settled uneasily.

"Would you take a look around you? All these people are just hooked on that television set. Man I swear it's like chickens in the rain." The blonde remarked quietly to his cohort. A pretty young brunette had taken notice of their entry and promptly began gathering utensils, napkins and what looked like small brochures from a distance. Probably the menu. She stepped out from behind the raised counter, an addictive marble topped counter that held the attention of those with short spans, probably why it was there in the first place. The girl was slender, well toned, flawless in that she was unmarked by the crude reminiscence of adolescent acne problems or dental work, the beige uniform she wore beneath the sheer and lacy apron clung to her hips as she walked gracefully to the booth. Her eyes a deep brown scanned the faces around her for change in atmosphere or the need for more coffee, extra orders, anything that would signal more work as she counted her footsteps almost unnoticeably to herself. She was a pretty girl of no more then sixteen or seventeen years, she was bright, cheerful, the kind of person you would invite to lunch after a long morning in a difficult sermon.

"Good morning fellas!!" she spoke happily as she placed the napkins, utensils and menus down before the two new customers. "Something to start? A drink perhaps? Coffee?"

"A good morning to you sweet-cheeks. Coffee sounds fantastic right about now." The blonde responded with a smile that would make any heart melt. He watched as she pulled out a small pad of paper and a simple pen and scribble down his order of a coffee. She smiled back briefly before setting her gaze upon his friend.

"And for you?"

"Oh, uh coffee, please. " The brunette courteously replied with a softened smile, something of sadness hiding there at the corners. With the order written down the pretty young girl excused herself for a moment to go and prepare the coffee. They both watched her meticulous movements as she did her job with ease, and smiled happily as she brought the coffee quickly to their table once again gracing them with her presence.

"There you go…and you. Sorry about the wait, cream milk and sugar are all here on the table for you, anything else I can help you with? Anything I can get for you?"

"Thank you. I feel like pie, you got pie?" the young blonde spoke gently.

"Yes! We have Apple pie, Pecan pie, Rhubarb and Strawberry pie, Lemon Meringue and Coconut cream! I know, I made sure to memorize the menu just in case!" she replied happily.

"Apple sounds great. And keep the coffee coming, there will be a nice tip in it for you uh…"

"Brittany. My name is Brittany. We don't wear name tags here, avoids the whole stalker issue. Anything for you?" she turned back the brunette sitting opposite the blonde positively beaming as she did so.

"No I'm fine thank you though. Just uh, the coffee." He said softly as if trained in thought, his eyes bouncing from person to person, screen to screen trying to make sense of what had happened that had the townsfolk so entranced. He watched as she walked away to fetch the pie and a new pot of coffee as they had asked. "Its so weird, all these people seem so intent on finding out more. Must have been something bad."

"What is it saying Sammy? Some sheep went missing, freak storms, cow mutilations, crops dying? Circles?" the blonde played foolishly with his fork and knife, a game he had created for himself, the rules spoken only to himself, an understanding of his own game, his own invention. He was content for once to not read newspapers or stare at television screens, listening to the news somehow seemed these days to turn his stomach a little more every time, he was sick of it.

"Missing person." Sam replied swiftly. He had managed only this before Brittany had returned with the warm apple pie and pot of freshly brewed coffee, and as she dished out the order, he took his turn to inquire what exactly had people so focused.

"Oh that…" she began sadly, "a girl went missing about a week ago. Her name was Frauste Nighthaven I think, at least that was what her scripted name was. She was some sort of elite blogger, always talking about how problematic the world was, what a virus people were to the land, real activist type. Lots of people subscribed to her workings everyday, and her parents from what I hear are filthy rich, so its really no surprise that family would have been targeted from the get go. I kind of feel for them though. Anyway, her parents pleaded for the first three or four days, and when nothing happened, when no leads turned up as to her where abouts, they gave up hope. Just like that she was forgotten about." She paused a moment to catch her breath, a reflective state shadowing her features for the briefest time. "I guess this morning they found her. Not in a pretty state either. News reports been replaying all morning, they've been showing some of the most grotesque images I have ever seen."

"How do you mean grotesque? What state is she in?" the nameless blonde asked shoveling another mouthful of pie in. She turned to look at him, his eyes told her of his interest, she nodded and began again.

"Things are missing. What should be on the inside, well it just isn't. She's broken in places that are almost impossible to break, unless you're superhuman. They're saying that she was alive when they found her, but passed away quickly so they suspect that it must have been done shortly before the dawn. The parents can't be reached for comment, and no one can think of another person who would specifically want her out of the way. But the worst part of the whole thing I think, was her face."

"Why do say that Brittany? What is it about her face that makes this so horrible?" Sam chanced again. Turning her gaze back to the velvet skinned beauty she smiled and gingerly spoke.

"It was a look of acceptance. She knew it was going to happen and she just accepted it. It was like she never fought back."

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"Well that yielded a whole helluva lot of nothing. At least the pie was good, and the cute fact filled encyclopedia of the unusual crime department didn't hurt one bit either." Dean chortled as he walked across the dingy, damp mould infested room. Two beds, twins he thought, just big enough for one body on each of them, enough to allow them sleep after the travelling they had done to reach this conclusion. He was depressed, the mission only yielded failure, and the death of an innocent girl, but something wasn't sitting right in his mind. He knew who had been behind the original abduction, at least he felt he knew, but then there was more to it, right? Azazel had run his experiments on people, six month old babies as they slept in their nurseries, Sam; his younger brother was the product of such an experiment. Everyday, Sam seemed to be distancing himself further from Dean, it wasn't a fact easily ignored yet they hardly spoke of it, they kept their secrets, its was just easier this way. So wasn't it possible that another monster had created similar offspring, worse then his but perfected? Wasn't it at all possible that the story they had been told by Castiel just days ago was true? He didn't want to believe it, but he held nothing else to follow. "So what do we do now? Sit here with our fingers up our asses?"

"No…but..Hey listen. There is apparently a town where no one can die. Thought it might be worth a little look, maybe go check it out and see if its true, I mean every towns got a reaper right? Just the natural order of things isn't it?" Sam replied cautiously to his older brother's commentary while neatly folding and replacing his clothing, weapons and provisions into his bag. He wanted to say more, thoughts kept flowing to mind, but he thought against disturbing the peace of the stability they had found here, the most part of the time they had been awake together there was always a reason they would argue. Lately that seemed to be much more then just an over exaggeration. "Do you think..I mean if it is Alistair…"

"It IS Alistair."

"What I'm saying is, how do you think he's controlling a reaper? I mean it takes some pretty powerful mojo to work that right? Not that he's a push over or anything but…It just seems out of place don't you think?" he finished talking and concentrated heavily on his physical task. Silence filled the room for a long drawn moment that seemed never to end..and Sam was sorry he had asked.

"If what Cas said is true, then it's entirely possible that he does have a reaper doing all his dirty work for him. Shame that girl had to be the one they got to. Spent all my time thinking about why they chose her, but the answer is simple Sam. They wanted someone in the community, someone who was a predominant figure in the town, but no one you would notice right away. So we move in, get closer and they kill her. Not just kill her, torture her, and without so much as a whisper they disappear. Yea. This is the handiwork of Alistair and his new pet. As for controlling the reaper, I think it goes that far."

"No? Why?" Sam asked curiously, a little absent minded.

"Imagine being dead. Unable to pass on. All you have to keep you company throughout life are the people you take out of their bodies. And then being handed a body. Told that as long as you wanted you could have it, walk among the living again. But you'll never die. I don't think it's a matter of control. I think it's a matter of free will."

Sam had stopped packing his duffle bag. Dean's words seemed to fill every pore, every inch of skin with dread and confusion, worst of all with guilt and fear. It was a strange kind of feeling he felt in those moments as he stared down the blonde man, changed so desperately from his rendezvous in hell, weaker somehow in his convictions. "We better get going. If they decide to get further ahead of us, we'll never find them unless they want us to."

With that the two brothers slung their heavy packs over their shoulders and made sure everything was neatly put away in its place. The less evidence there was for any one to find of their being in the area, the better off they were. A loud thud of the heavy door behind them told them that they were well on their way to finding the truth, a deep sadness fell between them as they walked to the black '67 Chevy Impala trimmed in silver, beautiful she was.

((_Here it is. Nothing belongs to me except Frauste, Brittany and Mara. Everything else goes to the cast and crew of the series. Thanks for reading!!))_


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